


Pick Up Lines Are Cagey

by FireflyHannah



Series: Pick Up Lines [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Adam appeared, After being forgotten, Again, Blame my flatmate for these awful tags, Brotherly Love, Chuck Shurley's A+ Parenting, He doesn't realise they're pick up lines, I did finish, I hope I finish this one, In more ways than one, It's her fault, Loneliness, Lucifer is so done with this shit, Lucifer's Cage, M/M, Michael's terrible pick up lines, More than one regret, Poor Adam, Regret, Regret x infinity, really - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-29
Updated: 2016-12-25
Packaged: 2018-08-27 17:08:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 10,335
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8409793
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FireflyHannah/pseuds/FireflyHannah
Summary: Thrown into the cage, Michael and Lucifer only have each other. It probably doesn't help that Michael is trying to initiate conversation. Does he realise that he is using human pick up lines, or does he think this idiocy is cute? Trying to melt Lucifer's icy exterior is going to be hard. After all, after so long alone, can the Morning Star begin to warm up again. Will his Grace stop running cold in time?





	1. Do You Come Here Often?

**Author's Note:**

  * For [50sNettle](https://archiveofourown.org/users/50sNettle/gifts).



Michael had never experienced fear or loneliness like this before. He’d never considered what The Cage was like before because he’d justified locking up his sibling on God’s orders. His brother had disobeyed, and the apocalypse was not due for a long time yet, bad behaviour must be punished. Now, he was forced to recognise what he had put Lucifer through for those long, trailing years. He could only imagine the years passing so slowly for the ancient being, frozen in solitude as the world continued around him. When Lucifer returned to Earth, when the apocalypse was due, it was easy to see how The Cage had affected him. His Grace, once warmer than even Michael’s own, ran cold, icy tendrils that travelled through veins and arteries in place of blood. His wings, seen only by angels, had been torn at and destroyed in his own destructive path. In The Cage, he had but himself to take out his frustration on. Rose gold wings had been torn at the seams, with feathers falling out of once beautiful wings. They’d been torn at and scratched by the archangel, and even though he may not have been considered a brother by all angels anymore, Michael had seen Lucifer’s gaze rest on his own wings, before he’d folded the rose-coloured appendages back against his spine with a wince, looking away when it seemed Michael wasn’t paying attention. He’d folded in on himself, shame and regret clouding beautiful features. 

Well, they had been beautiful features once. Now, Lucifer’s true form was thin, starved of love and affection which he had craved. His Grace stopped helping him long ago, and Michael could see the resignation in his eyes when their gazes fleetingly met over the icy cage. It was this look that made Michael approach the being he had once lovingly called ‘little brother.’ Experiencing first-hand how cold, dark, lonely the cage was had tempered Michael, who no longer found he had the will to hate his brother for tearing the family apart. A forced smile as he lowers to his knees before the cowering archangel who had been alone for centuries too long considering his kind’s need and desire for social interaction.

“So…” he begins awkwardly, not sure how to begin a conversation with one who had once loved him. “Do you come here often?”

He’d heard humans say that as he watched them before, although it seemed like it was usually used as a failure of a courting ritual. Humans were odd beings, and Michael could not bring himself to love them as they, as angels and archangels, were meant to. He held a healthy respect for the species. For they had matured, grown and evolved from what they had been so long ago. Their Father had given them more free will, more room to grow than he had ever given his first children. Michael had questioned their Father’s motives for this. But it had grown clear, which is why he’d had to stop Lucifer. And now, they were somewhere neither of them should be.

Lucifer turned a dull gaze up to the older archangel, a vacant look meeting Michael’s gaze. Their separate Graces no longer called to each other, as Lucifer’s Grace had cooled enough for Michael’s to fear it was something unfamiliar, and evil. In a way, it was. 

“We are in a box, Michael. In Hell. What do you think?”

Michael cringes. He couldn’t deny that perhaps his words had become foolish since they had been thrown into The Cage. He no longer considered the poetic effects of his words, after all, it was only Satan he spoke to, and only on rare occasions. However, there was a part of the first prince of Heaven that couldn’t think of Lucifer as anything but his younger brother. He loved the younger prince. Just as he had loved Gabriel, and Raphael, and the lesser angels. But Lucifer, his first brother, the first being to make him feel important, would always hold a special place in his life. He’d not been programmed to feel anything but loyalty to the Lord when he was created, but Michael’s heart had burst into adoration when he’d met his brother.

Today, he slunk away from Lucifer dejectedly, large golden wings trailing along the cold floor of The Cage as he moves to the empty corner he had claimed, lowering himself to the floor and wrapping his wings around his body in a desperate, vain attempt to get warm. A quiet chirr escapes him, as it used to when he invited Lucifer into his nest to settle with him, the soft, encouraging sound rolling off his tongue with a quiet plea. Even though Lucifer was in The Cage with him, he couldn’t stand the loneliness that The Cage encouraged. Angels were not meant to be alone, the archangels even more so. Archangels fed off each other. While lesser angels were at a similar strength throughout their lives, archangels took the phrase ‘strength in numbers’ literally. When Gabriel left first, they were weakened, and it was so hard to lock Lucifer into solitude the first time, let alone again – even though it wasn’t his fault this time.

Michael did not notice the helpless, pleading look Lucifer cast his way as he buried into his feathers, eyes closing as he attempted to think back on a happier time. That was the issue with The Cage. It was not a place for reflection, only for regret. Lucifer’s Cage did not torture with pain and tearing at the soul like the rest of Hell. After all, there was no point, it wasn’t made to contain misbehaving humans. It was made for archangels in Hell. It was made to suck out the joy and happy memories they had together. How Lucifer had stayed even halfway sane in such a place was a miracle. Lucifer had been forced to regret his actions because he’d been able to do nothing else. He’d been made to all but forget their happy memories, and he’d likely forgotten his justification of hatred towards the humans. What had they done, letting Lucifer become this bad? Now Gabriel was dead, Lucifer and Michael were trapped in Hell, and no one knew how Raphael was taking it.

While Lucifer pretended to ignore him, casting sad gazes in his direction while Michael wasn’t paying attention, or at least not acknowledging his presence, the older archangel allowed himself to be dragged into the pits of his own memories. He watched his own downfall, where instead of listening and talking to his brother, he’d cast him down.

Regret began to sneak into his mind.


	2. Did It Hurt When You Fell From Heaven?

“Did it hurt when you fell from hea-”

“Fuck off Michael.”

Okay, so maybe that line of human endearment was inappropriate to use on the Father of Sin, but Michael had heard humans use it in a convincing line to ask if one was an angel. Apparently, it went unappreciated by Lucifer, who had responded in such a crude manner to his innocent question. But at least he had spoken to him. He had spoken to him last time, too, but this time there was emotion behind it! Anger and irritation, maybe, but emotion!

Michael gives a soft sigh, casting a forlorn look towards his brother, and then he slinks away, like he had last time. A cool gaze fixes itself onto his back as Lucifer watches him go. Perhaps there was a lingering desire to call Michael back to him, to fall into his brother’s arms and beg him not to let him go again. He would resist that feeling, of course, because he wouldn’t want to appear weak to Michael.

It was hard to watch Lucifer when he was in the cage, and often, Michael would curl in on himself, retreating from his brother’s side to his own corner, arms wrapped around himself as his large wings coil around him. Talking to Lucifer was hard. There was no way for Michael to know how the fallen archangel felt. He was a blank slate that Michael could barely recognise now. Each time Lucifer moved, the remaining feathers on his wings would sway dangerously. When he’d chanced a glance at his brother a few times, Michael had seen him fighting with some of those feathers, yanking them out as they irritated the sensitive wings. There weren’t many of his feathers left. Michael could remember the iridescent seen of Lucifer’s wings like it was a distant memory. Like a sunset that worked across the land, pinks and oranges shifted with the light. Rose-Gold had become angry red, torn feathers littering the floor of The Cage. 

Michael had begun to hoard the feathers that he found on the floor, keeping them stashed in a delicate little pile. His own had begun to join them. Not through any fault of his, nor Lucifer’s own, but through the increasing amount of stress he felt about being put in a situation like this where he had no way to possibly break free. To make matters worse, the shedding feathers were ridiculously itchy and uncomfortable. Without a trusted friend or a mate, he was tasked with grooming himself, which wasn’t easy. He struggles and whines quietly, frowning at the situation he found himself in. He glanced up at one point, confusion clouding his features when his eyes didn’t immediately find Lucifer. Then hands ran against the base of his wings, a shiver crawling down his spine.

“Shh… I know, it’s not the same… But please, don’t worry…”

The voice, so soft, broken, warm and innocent. It made Michael freeze, before he nods, glancing over his shoulder at his brother, a soft frown played at his lips, the expression of wonder on Lucifer’s face broke his heart. It had been so long since the archangel had seen wings in their full glory, so long since he’d been this close. He couldn’t deny the younger angel this one request. Michael sighed and gave a tiny smile, forced, but soft.

“I’m not worried, Lucifer.”

The hands that worked over his wings were gentle and soft, tugging out loose feathers and straightening those that were crooked. Lucifer had not lost his skill at grooming since he was locked away, and Michael soon found himself relaxing under the touch, a happy sigh slipping into The Cage, the first since the chamber of solitude had been built. Arms wound around his legs and he leant his head on his knees, letting Lucifer groom him as he falls into a sleep-like state. 

This went on for a while, Lucifer seeming to take extra time to sort out his beautiful array of golden feathers. Michael thought nothing of the kind gesture, choosing to believe that his brother wasn’t completely corrupted by the labels of Satan and The Devil. After a while, he turned, a confused gaze flickering over his shoulder, as he fluffs out his wings, batting Lucifer away. He watched a content smile fall into a dejected frown, and reached out, brushing fingertips against the fallen angel’s wrist. Lucifer clearly thought he was being cast away again when Michael stopped his caring for him.

“No, brother…” he whispered, the word pulling Lucifer’s gaze to his face in childlike adoration, clouded with deep regret. “I’m not sending you away, turn around.”

There weren’t many feathers for Michael to tend at all, when he cast his gaze of the rose-gold wings, and he frowned. Michael had thrown Lucifer into solitude that had destroyed him. When the feathers had been tended to, his attention turned to the stretches of skin that had been plucked dry, and he begins to massage his wings. Feathers could grow back, but not if the wings weren’t cared for. Lucifer tensed under his touch, the same way Michael had, but just like his older brother, he soon relaxed with a quiet frown.

“I am sorry.”

“Me too.”

Michael felt a smile grow on his face, and just for that moment, The Cage seemed lighter, and less lonely than before.


	3. When God Made You, He Was Showing Off

They’d fallen into a tentative rhythm, neither getting too close to the other, except for how they would groom each other’s wings. Small smiles would occasionally be cast over the span of The Cage. Occasionally, a passing greeting would be exchanged, before Lucifer curled up into the usual ball-like shape he had become accustomed to. It wasn’t as lonely. Even just knowing that Michael was on the other side of The Cage. Lucifer rarely felt the need to speak to him, though. This was their punishment. Lucifer had started something, and they had failed to finish it. Isolation was the worst punishment he could think of, considering how social he and his brothers were in the beginning. Lucifer would punish himself with this isolation. He deserved it, he knew. Even if Michael seemed to want to make conversation.

Time didn’t seem to flow at all in The Cage, it wasn’t supposed to. Nothing else could be seen from The Cage, it haunted those in its grasp with pain, but also memories. For archangels, who were rather insusceptible to pain, it used emotional turmoil. Of course, when Sam had been in The Cage with them, they had a sense of time, as the human began to break down before them. They could estimate the time it took. But now, in a cold box that seemed to be a burning metal that would stop one from sitting comfortably, they had no measure of time. Lucifer, especially, was easily lost in this passage of eternal damnation. He’d done it before. He’d lost himself to The Cage before. It had destroyed his family a second time when he’d escaped, corrupted by the large misunderstanding, leading to the demise of his younger brothers. Even in their eternal prison, they’d both felt the moment that Castiel had brought down Raphael. Their sibling. That had been Lucifer’s fault, too. If he'd never fallen, the apocalypse would never have been destined.

It wasn’t long before the brothers were sat in their usual routine, grooming their wings. Lucifer’s hands working lightly over Michael’s golden wings, straightening the disarray and plucking loose feathers that he’d seen his brother clawing at. He smiles as his older brother purrs at the attention.

“When our Heavenly Father created you, he was showing off, Brother.”

Lucifer’s hands still in the feathers, before smiling faintly at the words and sighing quietly. He knew Michael meant nothing of the words he spoke to him, but it never failed to amuse him, the way his brother was so oblivious to how humans would use his words. Lucifer disliked the species, but he acknowledged that they weren’t unintelligent. They could be rather witty. Didn’t stop him hating them, of course. They were flawed… But perhaps he’d been wrong to take it so far.

“Be quiet, Michael,” he murmurs softly, tugging on a feather in warning, only receiving a chuckle in response as his brother ordered him to turn around.

Lucifer did as he was told, and Michael took his place, working over the itching pink feathers with his fingertips, encouraging the growth of new feathers in the place of old, torn and damaged ones. Michael wished to restore those wings to their former glory. It was a shame to see them as they were now, really. They’d been so wonderful when in their prime before the archangel’s fall. The pinks and oranges had reflected a sunrise, earning the Morning Star his name. Lucifer couldn’t resist the quiet purr that escaped at the wondrous feeling of Michael’s fingers in his feathers. It reminded him of his days as a fledgling. Reminded him of their days in the nest. Michael, Gabriel, Raphael, and himself. He could remember his nest, they’d all had one, though they’d always snuck into one another’s nests anyway. Most often, they’d pile into the beautiful silver nest of Raphael’s, and they’d pile onto him, collapsing into laughter.

As if Michael could sense his thoughts, and maybe he could, his hands stilled, and then wound around the other angel’s shoulders, pulling him back into him as he holds him. A smile tugs at his lips as he leans against his shoulder, nodding absently. 

“I miss them too…”

“I killed ‘Riel, Micky…” was the whimpered reply from the younger of the pair, and he closes his eyes, turning into his neck weakly, before being shrouded in a golden blanket.

Michael’s wings were thrown around the angel and he clutches him tightly, frowning as he tries to coo at him comfortingly. He couldn’t say that he understood why he’d killed their brother. After all, Gabriel and Lucifer had once been inseparable.

“You were in a corner, my dearest Lucifer. You felt you had no choice…”

It didn’t help Lucifer. He didn’t want to hear about that, didn’t want to justify what he’d done to his brother. He was wrong. He’d hurt people. Michael and Raphael would’ve felt that bond shatter. Even when Gabriel ran away, even when Lucifer was in The Cage, he’d always been able to feel their connection. Nothing hurt more than when the fragile bond, weakened over time, shattered. Painful shards in pieces, running through his heart and shutting him down for days, mourning his brother even when he’d not deserved to do so.

Gabriel… So brave, so bold, everything Lucifer and Michael failed to be. When Archangels went to war, Gabriel had left, he’d skipped out of hell with nothing but a farewell to his name. Lucifer sighs, and he bites his lip, nuzzling into his brother and holding him as he closes his eyes. Michael and Lucifer weren’t brave; they were stubborn to a fault, and they had been at each other’s throats for millennia. They had always loved one another, but both too similar. They couldn’t stop their fighting.

They were less similar these days. Lucifer was no longer as loyal as Michael, he was no longer a saint, having claimed the title as the Father of Sin. Michael’s innocence would forever contrast against Lucifer’s lack thereof.

Now, their differences were bringing them closer again.


	4. Your Smile Lights Up The Cage

Weeks could’ve passed in The Cage, and Michael wouldn’t be any the wiser. The Cage was dark, cold, and lonely. Even though he was aware of Lucifer’s presence, it wasn’t a constant thing, despite Michael’s best attempts to change that. He couldn’t force a constant presence on Lucifer after he’d been alone for so long. Nonetheless, it wouldn’t stop him trying to close the distance that had grown in the last few millennia.

This time, he moved to Lucifer’s side, not touching him at the current moment, not without permission, and definitely not without alerting him of his presence. A soft hum made him aware that Lucifer knew where he was, the only communication that passed between them in that moment. It was simple, but the silence that fell between them once they were in each other’s immediate presences was comfortable, and calming, shattering the icy, solitary torture The Cage tried to subject them to.

“You’re giving it more power, you know?”

It was Michael’s turn to hum in confusion, tilting his head as he turns a golden gaze onto his brother, a brow arched delicately as he looks at him, frowning. Giving what more power? His confusion must have shown on his face, because Lucifer continued without his contribution to the conversation.

“My cage. I can see how you think of it like a sentient being. It’s not. By calling it as a proper noun, you are increasing the power of the cage. It’s not sentient, Michael. It’s just a cage strong enough to hold an archangel. Don’t make it strong enough to hold two.”

There was a soft smile on Lucifer’s face as he spoke of their prison, as if he knew something about The Cage that Michael didn’t, and the older archangel supposed that was true, considering Lucifer had been trapped in the cage for such a long time.

“Your smile lights up The Cage, Lucifer. You should do it more often,” he murmurs, softly, almost shy in comparison to his usual interaction with the rose gold angel.

Lucifer blinks at him, before chuckling and extending a pink tinted wing to drape over his shoulder. Michael really had no idea what he was saying most of the time, did he? It was almost sweet. The second archangel leans against him lightly, shaking his head good naturedly as he rests his head on Michael’s shoulder.

Michael hesitates, because it really wasn’t like his brother to initiate the contact, but it wasn’t long before he was relaxing against him, leaning his head gently against Lucifer’s as he releases a soft sigh. He smiles and lightly cards his fingers through the man’s hair, closing his eyes as he turns his face into Lucifer’s hair gently, closing his eyes as he cradles him lightly.

It was nice, to sit in silence with Lucifer, just leaning into his touch as they absorb the offered comfort from each other. Even after so long, they didn’t need to fill the silence. They were comfortable together. They belonged together. He kisses the top of his brother’s head comfortingly as he nuzzles against him gently. A soft sigh escapes him and he smiles.

“I missed you, Lucifer.”

“I’m nearly certain you’ve told me that before…”

The archangel laughs quietly, closing his eyes and giving a soft sigh. He didn’t doubt that. He enjoyed using time to tell Lucifer that he missed him. To remind him that – even after all this time – he still loved his little brother. He’d never stopped loving him. He could say that with nothing but the purest honesty, as he’d never missed anyone more than he had Lucifer. His biggest regret, even millennia afterwards, was still that he’d been more loyal to a father who would betray them, than he was to the brother that fought for the love so many of them were willing to give up upon orders. Perhaps Lucifer’s motivation was selfish, in that he desired to retain his status as their father’s favourite. But really, Michael couldn’t hold that against him. He supposed, had the favouritism been the other way around, he would have done the same thing.

“Michael?”

“Yes, Lucifer?”

“You’re thinking too hard again. You should smile more.”

A playful smile tugs at his lips as he blinks rapidly, turning Michael’s words against him easily, tilting his head as he gazes at his brother, blue eyes dancing playfully as he laughs at his older brother, who appeared to be rendered speechless. That was uncommon, if not completely rare. He blinks and pats Lucifer’s head gently, not sure how to respond. And then, he returns the smile with a reluctant one of his own, tilting his head as he stares at the younger angel. Lucifer laughs at him softly, grinning at him and patting him on the cheek gently, arching a brow as he watches the awkward smile blossom over Michael’s handsome features.

Slowly, the smile becomes more genuine as it grows on Michael’s face while he watches the other angel, raising a hand to his cheek and resting it there, watching Lucifer intently with a warm gaze that he hadn’t felt cross his features since his brothers were fledglings. He smiles and closes his eyes as he leans into his brother, their foreheads resting together. They could’ve comfortably stayed like this for a while, just enjoying the warmth radiating from one another. It was a warmth they only received when they were so close. The Cage was usually freezing cold and solitary. But when they were together, it was possible to forget that.

For now, they would stay close to one another. For the first time since they’d found themselves trapped in The Cage, neither of them would leave the other’s side. Michael was eventually cradling Lucifer, curled up against his side. The older archangel’s golden wing draped over the other angel lovingly, a smile playing on his face as he cuddles him. They were growing closer once more.

They wouldn’t change that for the world.


	5. If Not For The Sun

Lucifer was sitting beside his brother this time, delicately tugging at his feathers to straighten them out. Michael had offered him this duty because they found he needed to keep his hands busy. The grooming that had been undertaken since their arrival to the cage had encouraged the regrowth of Lucifer’s rose-gold feathers, and it was the worst feeling he could imagine. In the cage, the cold of the environment tauntingly licked at irritated skin, causing the devil to flinch at odd intervals, shuddering with discomfort enough for Michael to withdraw his wings enough that he could turn around and draw the younger being into his arms. Lucifer falls into his grasp, eyes screwing themselves shut as his face gets buried in Michaels shoulder. It was easier to hug him now. Lucifer’s grace had begun to heat up, warming with the affection his brother was all too willing to give, even though he didn’t deserve a thing. As if sensing this train of thought, Michael comfortingly runs a hand against Lucifer’s cheek, smiling faintly as he watches him.

If anything, it was Michael that didn’t deserve the closeness. He’d been hell bent, pun unintended, on fulfilling a destiny he’d never questioned, at the cost of two brothers, only to lose the third brother when he failed his destiny. He releases a soft sigh and curls his fingers loosely around the back of Lucifer’s neck, meeting a vaguely pink gaze as he offers a smile. Though not entirely expecting anything from the younger archangel, the smile he received in return was nearly dazzling, almost able to brighten the darkness that surrounded the pair. That made Michael happy, admiring his dear brother as his fingers deftly play with the tips of his hair from their place around his neck.

“If not for the sun, my brother, the brightest thing in our Father’s story of creation would be you.”

“You lie, Michael,” he replies wearily, refusing to believe that his brother still saw him in a light that bright. “The brightest thing in creation, if not you, was Gabriel. Brave, loyal, beautiful. All things I am not.”

“I don’t lie, brother. I still see in you, what was there when our Father created you. I still see the light in your eyes. You, the second fledgling. So beautiful, and pure… You were destined for favouritism even then. Not just from Father, but from us, your siblings, too.”

A soft shudder travels down Lucifer’s spine and he closes his eyes, just enjoying the feelings as he experienced them. He didn’t say anything about it, because he was certain that Michael had no clue what he was doing. Why would he? He’d been so caught up in their Father’s plans for them, caught up in their own destinies, that neither of them had stopped to think about what could happen if they stopped this foolish fighting. Lucifer had been starved of affection until he was thinking only of revenge, while Michael had been thrust into the heart of power until he lusted for glory. The only difference was of their sins.

Lucifer had racked up a beautiful total of seven deadly sins. Fitting for the King of Hell, trapped in his throne room with nothing but his sins to dwell on. Envy had come for him first. She’d touched him as he laid eyes on the pathetic little hairless apes as his Father gifted them his newest creation. He’d allowed them to ruin his most beautiful masterpiece. Next had come Wrath, an anger sweeping through him as he’d watched the destruction begin as they created more Gods. None of them as wonderful as his Father. Greed followed, paired with Gluttony. They weren’t so different. He hungered for the death of the vile creatures, and he wanted more of that, each time he saw their souls ascend. His focus turned to the evil humans, watching as they slaughtered their brothers. And he’d laugh. His own siblings would turn to him in disgust, but he’d just watch the destruction, only wishing he was causing it alone. Pride was simple after that. As he began to argue with Michael, he became cocky. He was certain that he’d never have the courage to fight him, let alone win. Lucifer was unforgiving, cold, cruel. He believed that was all it would take to force his older sibling into submission. But he was wrong, and for that, Sloth was forced upon him. He was made to sit in a cage, alone with nothing but his thoughts, to do nothing. His cage. It was not a torture chamber like the rest of Hell. No amount of physical torture could break an archangel. They were Heaven’s fiercest warriors, made not to be broken. But made to be a team. So once separated, it was solitude that would drive an archangel into the darkest recesses of their mind, solitude that would break them. Lust, almost surprisingly, was the last of Lucifer’s sins. Years after Sloth had grasped him, he felt his seals breaking. His Grace, finally frozen with his years in his prison yearned to impale the brother he had once loved. At this point, Lucifer wanted nothing but revenge. Lust for revenge, for blood. And Lucifer would get that.

Lucifer had failed to counteract his sins.

And yet, he failed, once again. Brought to his knees not because his brother this time, but because of one pathetic little human he hadn’t thought could even begin to challenge him. Once again, Lucifer had underestimated someone. He’d driven Samuel Winchester into that wasteland, and he’d lost, because Sam did not let him take Dean out of the picture. Sam did not allow himself to give in. Because Lucifer tried to take out Dean, Sam had been able to fight back. Because of that one human, he had subjected his brother, the one he loved most of all, to the same fate he had once imposed upon him.

Of all the things Lucifer had failed to consider. The one thing that caught him off guard, was how loyal humans were to those they deemed worthy of their affections. Sam was Lucifer’s vessel, not because he was the boy with the demon blood. Not because he rebelled against his daddy’s plans. No.

Sam was the Vessel, because he loved his family too much, just like Lucifer once had.


	6. You Look Fantastic

“You look fantastic, Luci…” Michael croons as he lightly cards his fingers through his brother’s hair, smiling as his gaze rests on his face.

“Yeah?” he asks softly, huddled in his blanket of feathers as he cracks open an eye to peer at his brother, a small smile toying at his lips as he takes in what his brother was telling him.

“Mhm…” A soft snicker escapes the older archangel, as he blinks happily at his brother. “For your age.”

Any sign that Lucifer had been attempting to hide moments ago vanished, and he blinks at Michael before a wing flares out in playful defence. Rose-gold feathers slamming into Michael’s face with a soft laugh escaping the pair as they peered at each other. Michael’s hand was on the top of Lucifer’s wing, tugging it down just enough that he could peer over the delicate arch at his sibling. He inhales softly, a small smile on his lips as he closes his eyes. Warm breath travels over pinkish feathers as he releases the held sigh, and Lucifer smiles lightly, running his fingers through his brother’s hair even as he shudders at the feeling of air ghosting over his wings. They were near enough healed now, and they’d stopped itching. It was a wonderful feeling, one that made him altogether more playful, now he wasn’t struggling with the regrowth of his feathers.

Michael could see his brother’s newfound comfort, something that made him feel lighter too, even though Lucifer’s comfort was not paramount to his own. It was quite like Michael fed on the joy of others, just as Lucifer had been painted to feed on their pain. Though the latter wasn’t true, the former may have been. After all, not much separated the brothers. Their main difference was their virtues.

Michael had a beautiful tally of seven against his name, bright and beautiful, not unlike the Grace that burned with the heat and light of a thousand stars. First had come Kindness, a gentle smile that was followed by a caress of fingertips against the brow of any being his Father brought home. He loved all his siblings, and after them, his cousins, all of them. He even found it in him to look upon the twisted souls of demons when they came with cautious admiration. For Michael had learnt to see the good in everything, and everything, everyone he met would often be treated with that kindness. He lost his temper sometimes, yes, and he even got angry, towards the nearing of his destiny, but Patience had always taken hold of him. He was often able to calm himself, for growing wrathful would never be the path to take. It would destroy everything in his path if it overtook him. He saw that happen to his brother, first, and then to humans whose souls were not put to rest, doomed to wander the world as ghosts. Vengeful spirits, they became, until what was left of them was burned, and they could finally travel to their destinations. Charity and Temperance were twins, intertwined as Michael learnt to want for nothing and to give what was not necessary to ones who required more. He let none of his siblings suffer, none of his Father’s creations suffered if only they prayed Michael’s name, for he was there to help, so his Father had commanded. He loved, and he would not falter in his duty. He faced The Adversary with head lowered, a host of their siblings watching the fight as Lucifer and Michael were set to charge. Michael had not expected victory, simply, he had chosen to place himself in a position where he simply fought to try his best. He won. He regretted and mourned his victory as he himself was forced to lock away his most beloved sibling. If Lucifer was now no more than Satan, The Devil, The Adversary, it was Michael’s doing. Michael had locked him away from his titles. Morning Star, Second Prince of The Host, Heylel, Light Bringer. All names ceased to exist as anything more than memories. They became word of legend! But some angels knew the truth. Diligence was penultimate to strike. Michael threw himself into his work harder than before, as he knew that he would never forgive himself if he was to face Lucifer again. And he knew he would. And he knew that he would have to win, for humanity’s sake. If Lucifer fought out of his prison, and he would, he would hold no sympathy for humans in his path. Michael needed to fight. For The Host. For Humanity. For an absent Father! But he did not wish to fight, any longer. He didn’t lust after his destiny, or demand the time come sooner. No. Michael was prepared when it came, and as it came, he grew agitated. He tried to rush it. He never did the dirty work himself, of course, and his record stayed beautifully clean.

Maybe he wasn’t as virtuous as those were led to believe.

Nonetheless, he fought, and he never received his true vessel. Dean Winchester was simply as stubborn as Michael. And as he set his heart on a no, Michael threw himself into getting a yes. It failed, and he settled for ‘less’ because he’d never considered failing in his missions before. And yet he was bested, by Dean Winchester. For a time, he hated him, as he was the reason they were trapped. But then, he felt a sense of peace. Dean’s refusal had not destroyed destiny in quite the way it had been assumed it would. Not at all, in fact. It had granted Michael another chance, granted Lucifer another chance. It had allowed for the possibility of redemption. Redemption. It was a word that hadn’t been thought of in terms of Lucifer for so long. But here they were with a chance. Alone, in the cage, together.

Perhaps Michael would learn to respect humans on a whole new level. After all, he’d found out something very important out recently. He and Dean were not so different.

Loyal to absent Fathers, perhaps. But nothing provoked more loyalty, than a baby brother.


	7. Tell Them I Was Touched By An Angel

The brothers were sitting together once more, fingers buried in one another’s wings as they lightly caress the feathers, smiling at the reactions they were able to pull from their sibling. It was treated as little more than a game as they tugged at feathers and straightened them. Michael’s fingers stilled in Lucifer’s feathers as the younger angel works over a particularly sensitive area of his wings, drawing out a satisfied purr from the oldest.

This, of course, only encouraged Lucifer to do it again. Michael shifted, raising a hand to swat at the top of Lucifer’s head, only to be rewarded with a smirk and a soft chuckle. He huffs quietly, curling himself lightly into his younger sibling and tilting his head up to brush a light kiss against the other angel’s jaw, before lightly resting on his shoulder, a satisfied hum escaping him. He felt the blanket of feathers drape over him, but spared only a brief glance for the rose-gold comfort he was being offered by Lucifer. A small smile passes over his features and his fingers lightly graze against the opposite cheek to the one he’d kissed delicately.

“Can I tell my friends I was touched by an angel, now?” he asks softly.

Unlike the previous times Michael had made a seemingly innocent comment, Lucifer didn’t miss the wink that he paired with the words and blinks at him curiously, having to pause and think about whether Michael knew what he was doing. He was tempted to write it off as a fluke. After all, Michael was the innocent one! He wasn’t meant to know how to flirt, let alone understand he was doing it! However, even ignoring that Michael had winked at him didn’t stop the fact that Lucifer actually blushed at the words, clearing his throat and ducking his head to avoid looking at his brother. A soft trembling feeling makes him peer at his brother again, concerned to see if he’d upset him. However, as Michael pulls back, it became quite clear that Lucifer hadn’t distressed him at all, as the oldest archangel was laughing at the younger’s reaction.

Lucifer releases a soft huff as he pouts at Michael childishly, pretending to sulk over the fact that his big brother seemed to have gotten one over on him. This, of course, hardly bothered the older angel, who simply nudges his younger brother and grins, eyes bright with his golden Grace as he observes his baby brother. He almost apologised, but Michael could see the faint rose-gold glow emanating from his brother, a glow that wouldn’t be surrounding Lucifer if he was truly upset. Michael grins and reaches around to Lucifer’s wing, lightly tugging on a feather. This got him rewarded with a swat upside the head for his efforts, but Michael didn’t really care about that. He was happy here, being a bit of an idiot with his brother by his side.

It had been too long since they were able to act like fledglings. Too long since they’d been able to treat each other as siblings instead of obstacles. They were brothers. Lucifer had been raised with Michael at his side, and they’d been closer than anything, until Lucifer’s rebellious stage. That was as good a name for it as anything. It had been a rebellious stage. He’d been childish, and he’d rebelled against his father for no reason other than jealousy, hurting his siblings and upsetting everyone around him as he threw a temper tantrum a two year old fledgling would be proud of. Gabriel had been right about him. It really had been more of a violent sulk than it was a protest against their Father’s plans and Lucifer had managed to tear apart his family. He’d never regret anything like he regretted that. He’d loved all of his brothers, especially Michael, though he’d have never admit he played favourite, because then there’d be another apocalypse brewing or something. 

The archangels had always held out hope for Lucifer’s redemption, honestly. None more than Michael, but they’d all hoped. Even Gabriel, who’d run away out of fear of being made to choose a side had hoped Lucifer would return to the light. Now, he and Raphael were gone, as were many other angels. The only opinion that mattered now was Michael’s, and he didn’t seem too upset by Lucifer’s antics.

“Do you think we wold be able to bring them back if we ever escaped?”

The names were left unsaid, unneeded. Michael and Lucifer share a look of mutual understanding, and the question was responded to with a simple shrug, almost reluctant to answer a question that had no certain answer. One couldn’t blame him, the hope in Lucifer’s voice was damn near crippling. He lightly cards his fingers through the angel’s hair, hoping his melancholy wouldn’t be transferred to the undeserving man in his arms. He didn’t wish for Lucifer to blame himself for the loss of their brothers, particularly if their absences could not be rectified. He’d killed Gabriel in a burst of anger. Michael wouldn’t deny that. But Lucifer had adored Gabriel. Michael did not believe the act to have malicious intent. Lucifer would not have actively looked for Gabriel only to kill him, that was a ridiculous thought. As for Raphael, Lucifer had played no part in his downfall at all. They’d been in the cage long before they felt their Grace Bond with Raphael severing. Michael couldn’t say he’d greet the murderer of his brother with open arms if he had the chance to meet them, though. His brothers had always meant a lot to him, and he’d lost two while he barely reconciled with the third.

Michael’s arms tighten around Lucifer, and his face lightly buries into his shoulder as the oldest heaves out a small sigh, clutching at his brother tightly, not just with his body, but with a vice like grip of his Grace that refused to release the younger angel.

He’d just got him back. Michael had no intention of letting Lucifer go. Not again.


	8. Stop, Drop And Roll

Sometimes, when Michael was laying with his head resting on Lucifer’s shoulder, he’d be certain that the tendrils of Grace that stretched out to grasp at his own were warmer than they had been before. Now, so long after their reconciliation had begun, there was no mistaking the Grace that was fighting to burn like the thousand suns with which it had once burned with. Michael’s Grace responded to the heated angelic force now, intertwining and dancing with the burning magic as he sighs softly, enjoying the feeling of closeness that came with their Grace reaching out to one another. Now, instead of fighting, they were becoming a unit, rising against the cage together in a way that allowed them to grow more than they ever had before. There was no difficulty in their reconciliation, like it was meant to happen one way or another. They were stronger together, and their Graces, pulsing together and drawing them closer were seemingly going to stop at nothing until the archangels were a unit once again. Working separately hadn’t worked. That had served only to tear them apart and contribute to half of their deaths. Not this time! This time, Michael and Lucifer would rise together. If they were ever free from this prison, then Heaven would bow to the power of archangels that would never again answer to ones who would forget the greater purpose.

The angels would learn to thrive on communication and love. Mutual respect and friendship would be rewarded through the Host if they took charge. Importantly, so would Free Will. Blind obedience made for a good army, but it distanced those in charge from their alleged ‘inferiors.’ Lucifer would not let that happen again. Lucifer, who had been held in such high regard by his brothers, but had only gotten to know a select few that were close to him, as opposed to trying to spend his days bettering himself and his siblings. Lucifer knew all about the lack of communication in the Host. He knew all about how difficult it was for the Host to learn, and to change. He knew that blind obedience did not allow for change, only for conflict, and to push out free thinkers. He’d never wish that on anyone. Lucifer was the first to fall, and he knew he wasn’t the last, because he’d seen, felt and heard of those fallen after him. No, maybe not the last.

But he would be the one to put an end to the problem that pitted siblings against one another. Lucifer would introduce free thinking to even the more stubborn angels. He would not allow for anything to sever his family again.

Of course, this plan was far off at the moment, a mere dream, considering Lucifer hadn’t even broken free of the cage yet. His cold prison that had always been intended for one archangel. He gives a small smirk as he nuzzles against the older angel, wondering if Michael himself was a key to the cage. After all, with the help of their Father, it had been Michael to trap- 

Lucifer cuts that thought before it forms, unhappy with the way he knew it would go if he allowed that thought to come to pass. He would not resent his brother in that way ever again. He could not hurt his brother and he despised the implication that it was Michael’s fault he had come to fall. It was not Michael’s fault. Michael had been an obedient son, where Lucifer had insisted on acting on Free Will. It was his own jealousy and free thinking that pushed him from Grace, his own fault that his Grace had grown cold. A hand on his shoulder pulls him from his thoughts, and he looks at Michael, who must have sat up from his place against him only moments ago.

A brush of Grace against his own provokes a tiny smile as he looks at his brother, who wore a mask of confusion and concern for Lucifer, who only shook his head and gave a small shrug in response. A second tug at his Grace was acted upon by Michael, whose expression morphed into an easy smirk.

“Stop, drop and roll, Luci…” he whispers, leaning closer to the younger angel’s ear and nipping at it playfully. “You must be on fire, you’re so hot.”

Lucifer stares at Michael, not bothering to hide the blush that flared onto his cheeks this time, not that Michael would’ve let him. The archangel in question gently lifts a hand to run his fingers against Lucifer’s flaming cheeks, gently nuzzling against him with a cheeky grin. They were stuck in the cage together, and they were growing so close again. Michael didn’t see the point in not acting on whatever it was he was feeling. It wasn’t like they were still at war. The war was over. Especially now, where Lucifer and Michael were so close once again. They’d never give up their relationship for the sake of a fight again, he was sure. Why would they?

Lucifer especially would refuse to stay back from Michael now. After so long alone, Lucifer wished to latch onto his brother, and never let go, even if Michael seemed to take great pleasure in embarrassing his little brother. But then, what sibling didn’t like to embarrass the younger ones, just a little bit. 

Lucifer smiles and lightly turns in Michael’s direction, dropping a kiss to his cheek and revelling in the rewarding blush his brother responded with, nuzzling against the blush in ‘revenge’ for how Michael acted when the younger archangel blushed, and he offers a handsome smirk before gently resting his forehead against Michael’s, closing his eyes and just silently enjoying the feeling of his brother in his arms. He missed this closeness, missed having someone he was able to latch onto. Lucifer missed everything about his brothers when he was locked away. Now, now he had the chance to reform. He had the chance to beg forgiveness from the angels for his actions.

He'd take that chance. Lucifer was going to do anything within his power to make up for what he’d done.


	9. No Words in the Dictionary

Lucifer was leaning against Michael’s chest, eyes closed as his wings enveloped them in a feathery cocoon, pink blending with gold as their feathers mingled. There was a faint hum of grace thrumming between them, he could hear the low-pitched vibrations of grace reverberating around in Michael’s chest. It was comforting, and rather nice, knowing that his brother wasn’t pushing him away, but instead allowing their grace to intertwine as their feathers brush along one another’s. It had been too long, since they had last been able to interact in a way such as this. Lucifer was cradled against Michael’s chest, listening to him breathe and emit soft chirps, not unlike the sounds of communication used to talk to their fledglings. Lucifer couldn’t help feeling a bit guilty over the way this was all turning out. He almost didn’t want Michael to return to heaven. However, if he could find a way out, Lucifer didn’t think he would hesitate to go. Why should he? Michael deserved his place, he deserved to be sat upon his throne refusing to bow down to those that would not accept him. Lucifer knew he had some loyalists. Few, but some. They were the angels that had not broken ties with him during his downfall, the ones that believed he was in the right. They wanted him back, and yet, Lucifer himself could hardly believe he deserved release.

Michael’s hand gently finds his hair, combing his fingers through it and gently teasing non-existent knots from Lucifer’s blonde locks. He smiles slightly and releases a series of chirrups as he thinks of how else to communicate with his beloved brother. The silence was filled then by the reciprocated communication and he closes his eyes as he listens to the return of Lucifer’s chirps. It was nice, really, to be able to be so close to his younger sibling without their grace battling. At the beginning, their magic had been attempting to reject the other’s. But now, while Lucifer was warming up again, and shining bright once more, with Michael by his side in a way he never was anymore. The oldest angel frowns and tucks his face into the mess of blonde locks that Lucifer sported.

“No word in the dictionary, in any language, is enough to describe your beauty, dear. May I just use your name?” he asks quietly, the words hardly provoked. Yet that wasn’t strange. Not much of what Michael said to Lucifer had a rhyme nor reason.

“You are funny, Micha…” Lucifer replies lazily, eyes shut as he purrs against Michael’s gentle caresses. “It’s nice… to know you’re so in love with me. I’m flattered, truly,” he smirks, amused by the cough and the spluttering reply that Michael tried to reply with.

The archangel lays against his sibling and sighs contentedly, paying little attention to what he was up to as his fingers comb through his feathers, and through his hair. A small smile toyed at his lips as he lays in silence, simply enjoying the presence of Lucifer. Something felt weak around him, and he couldn’t explain it. Perhaps they were growing dependant again, like they had been all those millennia ago. Perhaps they were once more being thrust closer together, to work as a group, because it had always been the way. A lone archangel was always stronger than the seraph, angels, and other subclasses of their race, but there was nothing like the combined power of the archangels. Lucifer burned with the light of a thousand suns, a fiery force that would be held at bay only by the combat of Raphael’s water. Raphael’s fluidity moved intertwined with Lucifer’s flames, and it was a softer grace, a healing grace. Raphael, the fearsome healer was one archangel that had relied almost on the attacking force of the others. He could, of course, hold his own. Raphael was just as strong as his brothers, but he was not an offensive force, relying closely on defence, waiting for the opponent to tire. Lucifer was urged on by the speed of Gabriel, the rushing air that threw himself at the enemy, forceful and cruel as he attacks. Gabriel was the youngest, and smallest of the angels, and as such, he was the quickest, relying on speed to confuse while Lucifer lashed out from his side, tamed only by Raphael’s soothing presence to stop him going overboard. And finally, to combat the fiery nature of his brother, but not quite tame him, there was Michael, who attacked with the control and refinement of the earth around them. Michael never lost his composure before Lucifer began to slip away from the Host. Michael had forever been refined and controlled. He failed to attack without a plan, and if he burst into the fight before he had a plan, he would lose. Honestly, the flawed plan with which he’d faced off with Lucifer was probably why he’d ended up in the cage with him.

He couldn’t regret that, though. Michael had time now, to learn about his brother. To learn why he left them in that way, and to learn how he felt and why he’d acted out. He as gifted with a chance to discover his brother’s motives in a way he had never even attempted to before now. He’d never been interested in Lucifer’s story, never stopped to question him. Maybe that was why they’d stood in unison against one another. Maybe that was how they drove Gabriel away and failed to safely guarantee his return. Perhaps it was their fault for fighting like children. They weren’t fledglings any longer. Their temper tantrums would rupture the entire world instead of just toppling a few cities in an earthquake or another natural disaster. They could’ve destroyed their Father’s beloved creation, all because they were stubborn and rather foolish. 

“I am sorry, Lucifer, that it took me this long to listen to your side of the story…” he murmurs in the younger angel’s ear, sighing softly and holding him tightly to his chest.

Lucifer squirms slightly, and cups Michael’s cheek, murmuring an affirmation that it was okay. He’d not hold Michael’s past against him, considering Michael seemed to have put Lucifer’s own past to the side.


	10. When Do You Have To Be Back In Heaven?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ooh, double chapter Christmas/Other Holiday gift. ;) I couldn't resist finishing this one. I had Chapter 10 half finished before I'd even started 9. So, here you go. :)

Michael was staring openly now. He’d been doing this for a while, except before now he’d been glancing away when Lucifer looked at him, as if trying to hide that he’d been staring. Naturally, it didn’t work, Michael was absolutely terrible at hiding things. Especially things like this. Now, Lucifer and Michael were outright staring at one another. Michael with a shy smile and a tilted head, Lucifer with an arched brow and an amused smirk. He really wasn’t sure why the older angel was staring at him like that. In fact, he wasn’t entirely sure he wanted to know at all! He releases a soft chuckle as a blush rises against Michael’s cheeks, as if he’d not meant to be caught staring at him like this, but now couldn’t look away, lest it was obvious that he’d been staring. Of course, it had been ridiculously obvious anyway, because Michael wasn’t the most skilled in being sneaky, evidently.

Lucifer chuckles quietly and rolls his eyes at the rather hopeless angel, but he doesn’t look away. Instead, he turns it into somewhat of a game, and begins to stalk closer to Michael. His smirk never quite leaves his face, and he licks his lips. Michael blinks, but watches him, standing his ground for a short while, before blushing and ducking his face, biting his lip as he avoids Lucifer’s piercing gaze.

The younger angel simply continues to ‘sneak’ up on his brother, pouncing only when he was close enough to ensure his victory. He throws Michael backwards with his own weight, landing over him with a playful smirk, tilting his head at the innocent, startled look in the older angel’s eyes. How adorable, really. There was a moment of hesitation past between the two of them, before Lucifer bursts into an innocent smile, and Michael’s arms lightly raise up to loop around the other’s neck. He lightly tugs on Lucifer, pulling him closer demandingly. He smiles and moves to lay beside Michael, leaning his head on his shoulder gently and gently running his fingers over the angel’s chest, draping a large wing over him gently and curling into his side, head tilting upwards and a kiss being brushed against Michael’s jaw, pulling the older angel’s attention to him.

“What time do you have to be back in heaven?” Lucifer whispers to Michael with a cheeky grin, pulling him closer.

Michael pauses, blushing lightly. Did… Did Lucifer just turn his game onto him? That wasn’t fair! Lucifer wasn’t meant to turn his game onto him! He didn’t know how to react now. He stares at his brother, blinking as he finds he had somehow managed to get even closer to him. Lucifer’s arms were locked around Michael’s waist, and there was no space between them at all.

And it changed. Michael wasn’t sure what changed, but in the moment, there was a shift. Of course, it had been a long time coming. It was nice, because the bond had been growing since they’d fallen into the cage. It was only now that they found it snapping in place, everything solidifying as they lay in each other’s embrace. Michael smiles and brushes his nose against Lucifer’s, not having much of a choice as he looks at the younger angel, they were that close together. A small smile passes between them.

Then they were kissing. It was slow, gentle. There was an edge of caution to their actions. It was hesitant, as though they were reluctant to go any faster, in case they ruined everything that had built together. It wasn’t fear, but a healthy, mutual respect for their rekindled relationship, if they could call it that. Michael’s arms were around Lucifer’s neck and Lucifer’s around Michael’s waist.

And it seemed to be a key. Lucifer’s grace burned brighter than it had in millennia, flaring outwards from him, as Michael’s own does the same. Their grace intertwines, expanding outwards further and further, gaining strength and increasing with a ferocity stronger than what they were used to these days. Perhaps when they’d been close it had been strong, but nothing like this. The grace was even stronger than the walls of the cage, and a blinding light began to filter into the confinements of their prison.

In mere moments, the cage shattered, the sounds drowning out the quiet passing of ‘I love you’s between the pair, but it was enough for them to hear it. They were together. That was the important bit, that was the key to freeing themselves.

And as the cage was opened with declarations of love and forgiveness, Adam sat in the corner, once again, forgotten.

 

* * *

 

But not for long, it was three of them that woke in a heap later on, three of them that sat up in the darkness of a churchyard, in a corner. They awoke, Lucifer and Michael in their first vessels to hold them successfully, Lucifer in Nick, Michael in… John Winchester from 1978. That would make for awkward conversation if they met the Winchesters again… Which, knowing their luck, they would.

Michael and Lucifer laugh when they look at each other, taking in the mismatched vessels they’d taken up, which had to be His work. He was the only one that could’ve possibly bent the rules enough to give the pair dead vessels, which meant it would only be them in the vessels.

Funnily, it was Adam who was the first to speak, though he just glared at Michael the whole time he spoke to them.

“There are bells ringing. Hymns being sung,” he gestures to the church, windows glowing gold clearly in the dark where the inside was lit. “What day is it?”

That would prove to be a good question that none of them would answer, as Adam begun to shiver, and Michael reluctantly draped an arm over him. Despite them forgetting him in the cage, and it being Michael’s fault he’d been in there in the first place, he sunk into the feeling, seeking the warmth. He barely heard Michael’s hushed apology, and Lucifer, who’d paid him no attention whatsoever in the cage, even offered him a small smile, and wound his arms around the pair. The angels didn’t get cold, but the human would, and if Michael was willing to keep him warm.

“So, what’s our next move, Micha?” he asks softly, receiving only a small shrug in response.

None of the three would recognise the holiday for what it was. None would acknowledge that they’d touched down on Earth at Christmas. But for now, they would stick together. Perhaps Adam would go his own way eventually, but for now, the archangels seemed to have decided it was their responsibility to look after him.

They’d decide what to do in the morning. Perhaps they’d have an idea by then. They’d see.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so ends the first instalment of Pick Up Lines. I am planning a sequel, though I'm unsure about how long that will take, what with Christmas and New Year. :) I'm hoping to get it up by New Year, honestly, but we'll see! Thank you everyone who enjoyed it, leaving Kudos or bookmarking my fic. :) And I succeeded in my goal to actually finish a fic. 
> 
> Merry Christmas, Happy Hanukkah, Happy Yuletide, Kwanzaa, or anything else you may, or may not celebrate. I wish you all well, and I hope to keep your interest for the second part of Pick Up Lines.
> 
> <3 Thank you all!


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